Tell
by InSilva
Summary: A one-shot follow up to "An Unhappy Coincidence" in which Danny sees that that experience is still with them. Rusty hasn't a clue.


* * *

Tell by InSilva

Summary: A one-shot follow up to "An Unhappy Coincidence." Danny sees that that experience is still with them. Rusty hasn't a clue.

Disclaimer: there's only one person Rusty belongs to and only one person Danny belongs to. Sadly in neither case is it me.

A/N: as presaged by the ever-insightful otherhawk

* * *

He'd seen it twice back in the hotel room during the fortnight of pain and healing.

The first time, he'd thought Rusty was wiping away traces of chocolate cake but it turned out Rusty was debating whether or not he'd left a strong enough smoke trail with their false identities to protect them.

The second occasion, he knew instinctively it signified something was troubling Rusty. And that time, it was all about checking his understanding of how far Danny would go in his cause.

Now, seven weeks later, they were sitting in another hotel bedroom, plans of a diamond merchant's premises spread over the beds and round the floor. Danny was slumped in a chair, legs stretched out in front of him, watching Rusty pore over the schematics. At times like this, he left Rusty to it. He stayed up with him though as company and to make sure that Rusty did actually go to sleep at some point.

And then he saw it again. And this time, he really saw it. Rusty's fingers edged towards the corner of his mouth and started rubbing it gently. Danny looked at Rusty's face. It was wrapped in concentration and the brain processes going on were writ large. The fingers did not stop. They ran around his bottom lip and back to the corner. Danny tried to remember if he'd ever seen Rusty do that when he was working out some particular knot in a puzzle. He knew before he asked himself the question that he never had. And it reminded him of…

Danny's brain provided the picture in sharp focus. Rusty, as far removed from Rusty as he could be, trying to scrape away the feeling of Bryn Gower from his skin. Sitting in a shower, in the dark, letting the water and the tears mix as he scrubbed and scrubbed, as he focused on all the places Bryn had touched him, trying to clean himself, trying to rid himself of the feelings of revulsion and degradation. Danny could still remember the mess Rusty's mouth had been in. He doubted that he would ever forget.

He watched Rusty's fingers, rubbing away. Persistently. Danny squeezed his eyes shut.

"You OK?"

He opened them again. Rusty was looking over, his hand mercifully nowhere near his mouth.

"Yeah," Danny said easily. "Just gonna freshen up."

Once he'd reached the bathroom, he shut the door, gripped the sides of the washbasin, hung his head over it and closed his eyes. Bryn Gower. It wasn't enough that this…he paused mid-thought. Animal? Beast? Monster? Danny was sure the first two were unfair to the animal kingdom and frankly, any monster would probably be up in arms too. Better to stick to the abstract. It wasn't enough that this sadistic, violent anomaly of nature had managed, in a little over twenty-four hours, to insinuate his own particular brand of cruelty into their lives to the extent where Rusty had been taken to the edge and Danny had been pushed to his limits. No, it wasn't enough. Bryn had left his own little legacy. Something to remember him by.

He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

_You can't tell him. _

Rusty had mended. He had knitted back slowly over the fortnight they had holed up. Each day, Danny had looked in his eyes and seen something further away from meltdown and something closer to Rusty.

_You can't tell him. _

If Danny said anything, anything at all about this newfound habit, if he even as much as commented on it, Rusty would work it all out. He wasn't stupid. Danny pictured his face, the look of utter horror and helplessness as he realised how Bryn had left his mark well and truly. And Danny could only imagine the long-term effect on Rusty. On Rusty's soul.

_You cannot tell him._

"You want a whisky?" Rusty's voice outside the door brought him back.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a second."

He ran some water and splashed it on his face then looked back in the mirror.

_You can't let Rusty know._

He walked out of the bathroom, picked up the glass of malt from the side table and sipped it.

"How you getting on?" he asked, hoping his voice sounded normal.

Rusty shot him a curious glance. _Damn. Not normal enough._ Rusty looked as if he was going to say something about it and then decided against it.

"We can go in through the offices on the fifth floor. Security lines break at the fourth. We can set up a line blocker and take out the alarm."

Danny nodded, looking down at the plan where Rusty was pointing. He stared at Rusty's hand and bit his lip.

"See," Rusty indicated the access point.

"Yeah, that'll work."

Rusty looked away from the plans and at him. "What is it?"

"What's what?"

"You worried about the pressure pads? I told you we can go across the ceiling."

Danny didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Images of Rusty and the shower swam in front of his eyes.

Rusty was now looking at him with real concern. "Danny?"

_Rusty's mouth…Rusty's mouth…_Danny felt his stomach turn.

"Are you feeling-"

Danny thrust the glass at Rusty and ran blindly for the bathroom, hurling the door open and skidding on his knees to the toilet, managing to make it just before he vomited.

Rusty stood in the doorway, concerned. "Bad hot dog?"

"I guess," Danny croaked, spitting out a chunk of carrot. _Why was there always a chunk of carrot?_ "I'll be alright."

Rusty nodded slowly. "I'm done now. I'll clear the plans away. You should-"

"-I will. We could both do with a rest." He got to his feet and rinsed his mouth out as Rusty went to tidy up the paperwork and unearth the beds.

He knew two things. One, that Rusty would put any current odd behaviour down to a dodgy piece of fast food. Two, that he was going to have to lock his emotion down so tightly that not a trace of it escaped.

_

* * *

_

Saratoga, three years later.

"A Babe Ruth?"

"Not enough run-up. What about a Play Misty?"

"Without the radio? Never going to work."

They break off. Danny muses. _If they can only get close enough to the mark to switch the tickets…_

He glances over at Rusty who is rubbing the corner of his mouth. Danny has trained himself not to react. He has trained himself not to give any sign. He keeps his gaze even and mild as he sees the fingers at work.

And he sees the nailbrush. Every time.


End file.
